Dear Leia
by Anybodys
Summary: Poor Han, stuck in the middle of nowhere because of his beloved bucket of bolts, decides to write about his feelings for Leia. Set between ANH and ESB.


Dear Leia,

Gods forbid you ever read this. The only reason I'm writing this krething thing is because I'm currently stranded in the middle of nowhere because the _falcon_'s hyper drive system is acting up and I'm taking a break from finishing it.

I guess I'll start off in a short and simple way: I like you. I like you much more than I should. Ever since the first time I saw you, I liked you. Sure, we've had our fights but I've always felt this thing deep inside of me, like something's trying to get me to say that I like you.

And I'm saying it now.

Even if there's a possibility you'll never, ever read this. Which even though I don't want you to, I still feel that I need to document this somewhere.

I guess I can start from the beginning.

Okay, so I'm an orphan, you know? I'm not sure if you know that or not, but I've been an orphan for as long as I can remember and I didn't have the greatest childhood. I got involved with pirates, which explains my noble profession, but that's beside the point.

What I'm trying to get out here is that I met this girl. Beautiful as all get out, and I was madly in love with her. But guess what happened? She broke me heart. I'm not really sure how I was like after that; maybe I hardened, maybe I didn't—I'm not even sure if I showed how I felt or not. But I told myself somewhere down inside that I couldn't get involved with women. Maybe to just mess around with them, but never to have a real relationship.

And that's the way it was. I worked for Jabba as you may know, and because I was trying to pay Jabba off is the whole reason why we met. Luke and that that old Jedi nut he had with him pulled me into the whole rescue mission even though I was supposed to go to Alderaan. I'm sorry if that hurt to hear if you're reading this—I'm not sure if you're still upset over the whole event, but that's who the story goes.

Anyways, when you came out of that cell all I saw was one-hundred percent woman. No girl, nothing else. I was blinded by beauty, but I sort of ignored it because I thought that about women before. But there was something different about you that made me uneasy.

And then came that spitfire personality of yours. I thought to myself, "Oh boy, Han. You're got one of _those _girls on your hand." Although I honestly can't stand the thought of somebody trying to tell me how to run things, there was something about how feisty you were, how you liked to take control that cause some sort of admiration for you.

And thus I observed you for a while afterwards—how you cared so much for the rebellion. I mean you cared for them like if they failed you would die. Okay, maybe not that much, but I think you know what I mean.

And every time we fought—oh, Gods, I believe I fell even deeper into this strange spell. You always think you're _so _right, like nothing else matters but what you think. For some reason you're not like that in political meetings. Is it just something in meetings you can't say or is it just how you act around me? Anyway, we always fight over the stupidest things—I admit it, now you have to too if you're reading this. Like that one time we fought over—what was it?—a blanket or a jacket or something. I don't even remember what started that fight, but all I remember is how the fire came into your eyes and this rage shown all over your face, and honestly, it's sort of intimidating. But I, the fabulous Han Solo (don't deny it, sweetheart), would never show that. But even through the fights, you're spirit and determination would make me like you even more. Like as if you were a woman worth fight _for_ instead of _against_.

But then there were those few times where we wouldn't fight. Like that one time I walked in on you crying about Alderaan. Do you remember that? You were crying all by yourself, hidden in some unused room, and I walked in for some forgotten reason and you told me nothing was wrong when I asked and then told me to get out. But I stayed, and you didn't fight me. Instead when I told you that I was there for you, you came running into my arms and just cried without one word between you or me.

You know what, Leia? I like those moments. They're pretty nice. No fighting, nobody else. Just you and me and no words. Just you resting on me. If you're embarrassed or even revolted at this thought if you're reading this, don't be. Come on, princess. You have a breaking point like everybody else. Even I have one, believe it or not. You need to let it all out. I'll be here, I promise.

I really like your personality, you know? Your feistiness but at the same time gentleness. How sociable and understanding you are—at least in politics. But you're determination and independence is what really makes you stand out.

And even without that, you're still as beautiful as any nebula or galaxy out there. Actually, even more.

I can go on even longer, but honestly I have no idea where I'm going with this. And on top of that, I'm pretty worried Chewbacca will come storming in here and laugh me out of the galaxy. He's pretty worried already—he knows what I've been through. But honestly, there's something about you. It has to be true from me, because lots of women have toyed around with me, and even though I might be a little—well, uncommitted—there is something definitely different about you. Cross my heart and hope to die, that's how serious I am.

So I'm basically going to sum this up in a short and simple sentence:

Princess Leia Organa, I think I'm in love with you.


End file.
